Chapter Text
The Bastard Munich training complex was a universe apart, a place as far removed from her cubicle as the moon is from Earth. Stepping onto the pitch, Saori felt as if she had stepped from a world of zeros and ones into a dimension brimming with color, sound, and movement that demanded all her senses. The scent of freshly cut grass and the echo of balls hitting the net replaced the silence of her laboratory. The early spring German sun beat down on her with a warmth that made her close her eyes for a moment. This wasn't a world she could process with algorithms; it was an operating system that demanded all her senses at once. Saori felt a wave of disorientation, as if her mind, accustomed to pure logic, was recalibrating to process this new, organic, and chaotic information.
She found a discreet spot in the stands, her stuffed cat cradled in her lap, her only anchor in this new and overwhelming environment. She watched. The players were figures in motion, but her eyes were fixed on two of them. Michael Kaiser moved with calculated arrogance. Every movement was a direct vector toward the goal, a perfect line slicing through space with mathematical precision. The analyst immediately understood why his movement data was so linear. He was the embodiment of the end result, the "outcome" that all other football data sought.
But her analytical mind kept returning to the figure moving beside her, Alexis Ness. In the data, his movement was chaotic, almost senseless. Now, on the field, Saori saw the truth. The midfielder wasn't running aimlessly; he was creating a labyrinth for his opponents. His body twisted unexpectedly, his passes went to places where no one was, his off-the-ball runs seemed like pointless distractions. The "magic" she had seen in the data wasn't a mistake. Ness was an architect of chaos, a master of disorder who shattered the logic of the other players. His game was a mystery, a "magic" that defied logic.
And suddenly, everything fell into place as if it were the final piece of a complex puzzle. She saw how Ness moved, creating an empty space in the defense, an invisible "corridor" that no one else saw. And then, as if he were a piece in a chess game, Kaiser moved with brutal precision, sliding into that space to receive the ball and shoot. It wasn't a coincidence, not a random pass. It was choreography. Ness created the chaos so the striker could find his way to glory.
Saori gasped. It wasn't just a pattern; it was a choreography of intention, a demonstration of a brutal ego. She realized her mission went far beyond numbers and statistics. To find a true "monster," she needed to understand the will that drives them, the invisible connection that binds them together. It was a job that couldn't be done from behind a desk; she needed all her senses on the field with every player.
***
Saori stepped down from the stands, her footsteps echoing with a confidence she hadn't possessed before. It felt as if, for the first time, her mind was in sync with her body. She approached the sidelines, her eyes fixed on Alexis Ness.
The midfielder, with a genuinely friendly smile, stopped after a play. He noticed her at the sidelines, and his expression softened. "Are you lost? Access to the pitch is restricted at the moment," he said in perfect English, his voice as polite as a host's. His gaze slid down to the stuffed animal she was holding, and his smile grew warmer.
She remained motionless for a moment. Her mind, accustomed to being unnoticed, felt exposed. She clutched the stuffed animal. "I'm not lost," she said, her voice a calm whisper. "I was watching you. I'm temporarily one of the team's analysts. And I've noticed something about you that I doubt anyone else has seen."
At that moment, Alexis's smile vanished. A glint of arrogance and condescension crossed her eyes. She straightened up, her posture stiffening. "Wow, you're so small..." she said in a completely different tone, as if the answer were obvious. "You don't look like one of the team's assistants."
"You don't give Kaiser the ball," Saori said, her words falling like a revelation. "You give him space. You create the maze for him to find his way through. Your game isn't about assists. It's about chaos."
The mockery on Ness's face was replaced by a profound fascination, but only for an instant. The small analyst, clutching a cat plushie, had seen through his ego, had deciphered the "magic" he thought only he understood. For a moment, the silence between them was as deep as the connection Saori had just discovered.
The silence was broken by the midfielder's harsh, icy laugh. He leaned forward, his face now filled with a cold hostility that contrasted sharply with his previous smile. The gaze, which Saori had thought was one of fascination, transformed into a flash of pure venom.
"And you think you know something? You, a mere analyst who sees the world through numbers, can understand what's between Kaiser and me?" His voice dropped to a cruel whisper. "I don't create chaos so he can 'find his way.' Kaiser's talent is so brutal, so immense, that he can't help but find the net." My "magic" is what makes his talent even more perfect. If you think you know anything about Kaiser, it's because I've shown it to you.
Saori, who hadn't mentioned Kaiser's talent or playing style, mainly because her fascination was solely focused on Ness, was stunned by how the other man's entire speech centered on his teammate. But as she opened her mouth to reply and tell the midfielder exactly that, she saw a hand land on the top of his head, applying subtle but unmistakable pressure. The midfielder's smile stifled, and his eyes widened. Michael Kaiser's voice crackled behind him, slicing through the air like a whip. "Ness, what do you think you're doing?"
The midfielder froze. In an instant, all his arrogance crumbled. He shrank back, the hostility on his face vanishing, replaced by an expression of submission and devotion that Saori had never seen before, a reaction reminiscent of a dog being scolded by its owner. It was a far cry from the dynamic she had conjured up in her mind, thanks to the speech she had delivered earlier.
Kaiser approached, and his hand, which had been behind his teammate's head, slid to rest on his shoulder. The midfielder flinched, not only from the pressure of the grip, but also from the icy tone of the striker's words.
"Apologize," Kaiser ordered, his voice calm and authoritative.
"I'm sorry," Ness murmured, without looking at her.
"Don't apologize to me," Saori said, her voice now firmer.
“Apologize to her,” the striker repeated, his voice softer, but with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m sorry,” Ness said, this time more forcefully.
“Can you leave?” Kaiser asked, looking at Saori condescendingly, his tone as if he were speaking to a child.
She didn’t move. The contempt in his voice was a personal insult, not to her as an individual, but to the passion and work she represented.
“I’m not leaving,” Saori said, her voice surprisingly firm. “I have permission to be here. And you have no right to speak to me like that.”
For the first time, Kaiser truly looked at her, not just as another object in the scenery. A faint smile of fascination crossed his face. He realized that he wasn’t looking at a child, but at another monster in the making.
“How interesting…” the striker murmured, more to himself than to her.
Saori held her gaze for a moment longer, the plush cat in her hand. The interaction with the two monsters had left her breathless, but instead of fear, she felt a surge of adrenaline. Suddenly, the shrill sound of the coach's whistle broke the tension, calling the players back to practice. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. Her retreat wasn't an escape, but the first step in a battle that had just begun.
***
Meanwhile, in a Tokyo office that smelled of bitter coffee and despair, Anri Teieri sat at the head of a conference table. The tense, formal atmosphere contrasted sharply with her passion for the player development project. The walls were adorned with portraits of past glories that now felt empty, and the silence was broken only by the subtle hum of the air conditioner. Around her, a group of JFA executives, dressed in impeccable suits that concealed their distrustful expressions, regarded her as if she were a problem on the verge of collapse. Kaito Akimoto, a senior manager and head of the sponsorship committee, fiddled with a pen, his face expressionless, but his eyes filled with barely concealed contempt.
“Miss Teieri,” Akimoto said, his voice as polished as his suit. “It’s been three weeks since your sister left Japan. Could you please give us a detailed report on what you’ve accomplished?”
Anri looked him in the eye, her back as straight as a ruler, as if the rigidity of her posture could compensate for the instability of her situation. Inside, a voice urged her to stand up and tell them the truth: that Ego and his sister had done nothing more than search for a "monster," but her professionalism compelled her to say what they needed to hear. "My sister and Mr. Ego are about to complete the initial phase. The data they've obtained is valuable."
"Data?" Akimoto scoffed. His laugh was a dry, humorless sound that rippled through the room like a wave of contempt. "We've spent a fortune on this trip. And all we've gotten is 'data'? The press is already asking about the return on investment. The backers are nervous. We can't continue with the project if there isn't a tangible profit, a concrete result to sell."
Anri felt a wave of panic that chilled her blood. She knew Akimoto was looking for any excuse to cancel the project and that the other JFA executives didn't understand Ego's vision. They only understood numbers and immediate success. Anri felt like a soccer player without a ball, trying to score a goal in a game she couldn't win.
The scene grew even more tense when one of the executives stood up, his face red with fury. “You didn’t promise us ‘data.’ You promised us a monster. And what has your ‘genius’ given us? A trip for an analyst who hasn’t produced a single result? Your team hasn’t even contacted us to give us any tangible progress.”
She felt a burning rage rise in her throat. The indignation was for Saori and Ego, who were risking everything for a dream while these men, who were risking nothing, looked down on her with disdain. She opened her mouth to speak, but the executive interrupted her before she could say a word.
“It seems your sister and father aren’t the only ones in your family living in a fantasy world. If you don’t give us something concrete in the next few days, we’ll be forced to cancel the project.” After saying this, the executives stood up and left the room, leaving Anri alone in a silence that felt heavier than any words.
The room fell into a deathly silence. The echo of Akimoto's words reverberated in her head, each one a nail in the project's coffin. The weight of the mission was a crushing burden on her shoulders, and for the first time, Anri wondered if the risk was worth it. But her sister's calm voice at the airport echoed in her mind, reinforcing her resolve.
Anri knew that "data" wouldn't be enough. She needed something tangible, a gesture, proof that would sell the vision. Her mission was no longer just to protect the project, but to find a way to translate her sister's and Ego's passion into the cold numbers these executives demanded. The real battle wasn't on the football field; it was in the boardroom, and Anri stood up, ready to fight for the vision that no one else understood.